Metamorphosis
by TheOrchid
Summary: Harrison Gray was killed by Lord Voldemort. That doesn't mean he plans on staying dead. Now, reincarnated as the twin brother of the Boy-Who-Lived, he's back for some long awaited revenge. He may not be the prophecy child, but he does plan on taking back what he's owed- and is more than willing to crush anything that might get in his way.
1. Chapter 1

The betrayal hurt more than the knife ever could.

As he sank to his knees, clutching his wounded stomach, Harrison Gray stared up at his murderer with something akin to confusion in his eyes. A million questions flitted through his mind, and he asked every single one of them in a wordless, accusing gaze.

Tom only answered one.

"I killed you because you were in my way, Harrison." His voice was silky and level, betraying no emotion despite the fact that he had just killed his best friend- the only person he had ever cared for. "It isn't anything personal. I promise you."

Harrison shuddered, pressing the heel of his palm into the wound in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding. The red stain continued to spread, seeping through the fine white linen of his shirt, oozing onto his hands and making them sticky and red.

It was ironic, he thought, that _he_ was the one with blood on his hands.

"You were… too close to me. Much too close. A _weakness _that I can't afford to have." Tom continued lightly, as if he weren't watching him _die. _Not that it was unusual. Harrison himself had seen others- dozens of other witches and wizards and _muggles- _die in the same way. Helpless, doomed, with Tom standing over them, the executioner, watching his victims die like pigs on the slaughter block.

Maybe it was karma that had him here now, facing the same death that had been dealt to countless others while he had looked on, indifferent to them all. A death that he had he had thought himself above, a death that he had never even for a moment considered he might share.

A weakness, Tom had called him.

Harrison had to admit that this was true.

He _was _a weakness. Tom's weakness.

No, not Tom anymore. Tom was dead. Killed, murdered, and _disposed of, _for being a liability to the Dark Lord, the same way Harrison was now.

Lord Voldemort was the one standing over him now, watching his demise play out with cruel red eyes.

It was getting harder to breathe now, he noted vaguely, struggling to stay conscious. His breath was coming in gasps, and his vision shifted between blurry and clear. The _poison. _The poison which would, in the end, be his _real _killer. His wound wasn't healing the way it usually would have, and the blood pouring from his wound was a little thinner than it should have been.

He should have known.

How long had it been since he had interacted with Tom normally? He was blind to have missed it. It seemed as though everything he had missed was coming back now, to flash before his eyes- warnings that were useless, because now they were too late to do anything.

The strained silences. The lack of contact. The way Tom had avoided him.

Too late.

He felt used. No, he _had _been used. Manipulated. A pawn in a game of chess he'd never been conscious of, yet one that had been playing out for a while- Perhaps as long as he'd known Tom. Maybe longer.

His mouth tasted coppery and sickeningly sweet, and his head felt heavy. His wand- where was his wand?

_Taken. _He remembered that much, at least. Wrenched from his hand at the end of the duel that had, ultimately, led to this. It was in Tom's left pocket, and Harrison was aware that the only reason Tom hadn't snapped it was because a brother wand might be useful to him.

Unlike it's former master.

"I'm not going to say sorry." Tom- no, _Voldemort,_ said softly, almost apologetically. "Because we both know that it had to be done. It was a necessary loss." He sounded almost pleading now, and if Harrison had been in a finer state, he might have laughed at the _stupidity _of it all. Voldemort was never sorry.

The wound hurt. Not as much as several of the various injuries he'd accumulated over the years, but it still stung. It was the only sensation he really _felt. _The rest of him was numb and frozen, as though his body was already resigned to the inevitable.

Tom would never face the inevitable. Voldemort, Flight-From-Death. Horcruxes.

"I will say, though, that I did love you. That's why you had to go. But don't worry- I'll always keep you with me. You will not be without your role in this war, in this world or the next."

Blood had begun to pool around his knees, bright scarlet and almost beautiful against the cold, slate-gray marble. His heartbeat was slowing down.

"You see, I needed another Horcrux. I'm going to have seven. I'm going to _live forever." _And there it was, that gleam of insanity, of euphoria- in Voldemort's eyes. The gleam that separated Tom Riddle from Lord Voldemort. Harrison could hear the unspoken words, even as the room seemed to darken further. _You're not, though. You die here, and now. _

Hate burned within him, a fire doomed to die when he did.

Or perhaps not.

"In the end," Tom whispered, almost reverently, "You'll be more vital in this war than you ever dreamed. A Horcrux, my Horcrux. Your animangus, set in amber. A butterfly. My triumph."

Harrison looked up at him through lowered eyelashes. He laughed, thickly, ignoring the unpleasant tang of blood filling his mouth.

"But it isn't the end, Tom." He rasped, and forced himself to look up. Emerald met Ruby, neither willing to look away. "Not for me."

The clock struck midnight.

After the twelfth chime, Harrison Gray was dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Metamorphosis**

A hoarse scream ripped through the otherwise quiet hospital.

Right now, Lily Potter was in a _world _of pain.

The numbing spells on her were relatively weak, and she hadn't been allowed to take any painkilling drought- both for her sake, and for the sake of the baby. Naturally, she wasn't feeling particularly charitable towards her husband, who sat beside her and cringed at each of her screams.

If she had been in a clearer state of mind, she might have reflected that James was being uncharacteristically supportive.

Of course, this might have been because if James had _dared _to get absolutely plastered at the Hog's Head, like he'd wanted to, Lily would have cheerfully torn him limb from limb.

And so, like the mature adult that James Potter really wasn't, he sat by his wife's side for the agonizing hours that followed.

The clock on the wall chimed, and at the stroke of midnight, the smiling midwife gently handed James one of two squirming bundles.

"Congratulations, Mr. Potter." She said brightly. "You have twins!"

0o0

The world was bright and cold.

Everything was too loud, too much of everything overloading his senses and flooding him with an overwhelming sense of confusion.

But he was alive again, and that was all that mattered.

Harrison Gray had returned to the land of the living.

Vaguely, he could hear the sound of people talking. He could barely focus, he was so cold. He missed the warmth…

"…Congratulations, Mr. Potter… You have twins!"

A _twin?_

_That _had certainly not been in his plans.

Moments later, Harry found himself engulfed in a soft blanket, cradled in the arms of a beautiful, tired looking witch.

"Hello there," She cooed, her voice soft and somewhat reverent. "You're _Harry. _I'm your mommy."

Harry.

It was just too much.

He didn't mind this kind of treatment- he had to admit, as the red haired woman had cradled him to her chest; cooing to him and gazing at him as though he were made of solid gold. It was a radical, if not unwelcome change from the way his previous mother had treated him.

His older cousin had told him that when Harrison had been born, he'd been immediately handed off to a nanny of course. The old bitch herself hadn't bothered with him then, or in any of the years after his birth.

Perhaps his second life wouldn't be quite so bad.

There was a man in the room who was almost certainly his father, who held what he assumed was his twin in trembling arms. He looked as though he was going to pass out, and grasped the other baby as though it was a particularly dangerous explosive.

"I- I'm a _father!" _The man stuttered, and he lost even more color.

"Yes, James." The woman said patiently, exasperated affection in her tone. "Come over here. I want to see both of my sons."

The man- _James, _if he'd heard correctly, stumbled over to the bed, still clutching the other child as if he were made of glass. Gently, like he was afraid the baby would shatter, he placed the infant beside Harry, who turned to get a look at his new twin.

Well, he tried.

Unfortunately, while his mind was that of a twenty-two year old, his body was that of a newborn's. Needless to say, his attempt at movement failed, and his head flopped to the side, feeling much too heavy for his body.

Luckily, his new mother simply giggled, and held her two sons up so that they faced each other.

"Harry James Potter and Ian Sirius Potter." She whispered, beaming at them. "Say hello to your brother, boys."

Harry stared at his twin, fascinated.

The other boy really looked nothing like him. He was vaguely aware of his own physical appearance- the midwife had spent a very long minute gushing over his 'gorgeous emerald eyes' and 'adorable messy black hair'. Ian Potter's hair was a soft red, not the Weasley red that the whole of Slytherin tower had mocked, but a soft, apple red that matched their mother's. His eyes were those of his father, wide and hazel, and slightly unfocused- he was a newborn, after all. He was chubby in an endearing way, and Harrison couldn't fight the surge of affection he felt for the boy- whether it was something instinctual, or he was just getting soft, he didn't know.

Either way, this boy was his brother.

Currently though, he was being rather irritating, wailing at the top of his lungs.

In a surge of what felt like enormous strength, Harrison lifted his chubby baby-hand and laid it on top of his brother's.

The redhead stopped crying immediately.

Harrison blinked curiously. He hadn't been expecting that. And apparently, neither had the adults.

"Must be a twin bond of some sort," The midwife announced happily, bustling over to wash her hands. "Well, I'll leave you all alone for now. Congratulations! Call for me if you need anything; I'll be just next door, Alice Longbottom's boy is acting up a bit."

The Potters nodded wordlessly, too caught up in the sight of their children to pay much attention.

"My precious baby boys." Lily Potter murmured, stroking her son's soft cheek.

0o0

…_And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives…_

Miles away, Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, looking more troubled than usual. His faithful phoenix offered him a concerned trill, and he smiled weakly.

The Longbottom and Potter heirs had been born.

And the seventh month had died.

0o0

Harry James Potter was born at 11:59 PM, seven minutes after his older twin, Ian Sirius Potter.

Harry was the quieter of the two. He rarely cried or fussed, and seemed to possess a calming influence over Ian, who was by far the more boisterous of the two. The two of them seemed to be polar opposites, both in personality and in appearance. Where Ian was cheerful, Harry was more subdued. Ian was the bigger of the two of them, and Harry was smaller, more delicate.

However, despite these differences, the two of them seemed to be inseparable. Where Harry went, Ian followed, rarely allowing his younger twin to be away from him for very long.

Lily thought that this was _adorable. _

Harry was oddly patient for an infant. He'd allow his twin to follow him around, and had no problem sharing his toys with the other child.

Ian, on the other hand, never shared anything with anyone who wasn't his brother. Even James had found himself in a very undignified state when he'd tried to interrupt Ian, who had been in the middle of making mud pies for his twin.

Being on the receiving end of a fistful of mud, baby size or no, was neither suave nor funny.

Sirius, of course, was disinclined to agree with the latter.

Privately, Lily was glad for the devotion her boys had for one another. While she'd been grateful for Harry's 'quiet dignity' as Remus had put it, she worried that he'd be bullied for his introversion as he grew older. Children were cruel, she knew. Severus…

She shook herself mentally, not wanting to open that particular can of worms just yet. She was so _happy _now. And thinking of Severus always managed to ruin that.

Lily sighed, and smiled tiredly at the sight of the twins curled up on the couch together, Ian drooling slightly on Harry's onesie. Yes, her boys would look out for each other.

With the war raging around them, and the prophecy hanging over their heads, they would need each other more than anything.

0o0

**A/N: I know, I know. The twin-BWL thing is so old. It's so much fun, though. I hope the first chapter wasn't overly dramatic, though I know that it probably was. Sorry. This one won't be quite so angsty as the first one. It actually has a **_**completely **_**different feeling about it, but I never intended this story to be overly angsty. At least, not just yet.**

**I hope you'll bear with me.**


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